Chapter 5 - THE WRONG TARGET
Adrian stepped in front of me.
“Explain.”
Victor laughed.
“Still giving orders.”
“You said she was supposed to die.”
“Yes.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why would anyone want me dead?”
Victor looked at me almost kindly.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
I hated him immediately.
“You really don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“Your mother never told you?”
My stomach twisted.
“My mother died when I was twelve.”
Victor’s smile faded.
“Interesting.”
Adrian’s voice dropped.
“Stop playing games.”
Victor pointed his gun at Leo.
Adrian went silent.
“Your little hero here,” Victor said, “wasn’t supposed to save Leo. She was supposed to be standing exactly where the glasses fell.”
I remembered Julian.
Table four.
Water refill.
The position he had sent me to.
Cold spread through my body.
“That makes no sense.”
“It will.”
Victor reached into his jacket and tossed a photograph onto the floor.
It slid toward me.
I picked it up.
My mother.
Young.
Smiling.
Standing beside a man I recognized.
Adrian’s father.
My hands began shaking.
“No.”
Adrian took the photograph.
His eyes widened.
“Isabella.”
Victor nodded.
“Your father’s favorite secret.”
I looked from one man to the other.
“My mother worked for the Moretti family?”
Victor laughed.
“Worked for them? Is that what you think?”
Adrian stared at the photograph.
“I remember her.”
I turned.
“You knew my mother?”
“I was young.”
“You knew her?”
“Yes.”
My voice rose.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Victor answered for him.
“Your mother kept evidence.”
Adrian’s head snapped up.
“What evidence?”
“Records. Payments. Names. Every dirty politician, cop, judge and businessman your father ever bought.”
Victor looked at me.
“When Isabella realized your father was planning to leave the criminal side of the family business, she helped him copy everything.”
“My mother was a waitress.”
“No.”
Victor smiled.
“Your mother was an accountant.”
My knees weakened.
“She hid the records before she died.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I spent sixteen years looking for them.”
“I don’t know anything about records.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why kill me?”
Victor’s smile became colder.
“Because somebody else believes you do.”
Adrian spoke.
“Who?”
Victor looked toward the bomb.
“Cut the red wire.”
Adrian frowned.
“What?”
“You have thirty seconds.”
A small digital display suddenly lit.
00:30.
Leo screamed.
“Papa!”
Adrian lunged toward the box.
Victor fired.
The bullet struck the wall beside him.
“Only the waitress.”
Everyone froze.
Victor looked at me.
“Your mother built the hiding place. Maybe her daughter inherited something useful.”
“I don’t know bombs!”
“Twenty seconds.”
Adrian grabbed my arm.
“You’re not touching it.”
“Then Leo dies.”
“I’ll do it.”
“He’ll shoot you.”
“Emma—”
“Fifteen.”
I ran to the box.
Wires.
Red.
Black.
Yellow.
My hands shook violently.
“Mom,” I whispered. “Please.”
Then I noticed something carved into the wooden floor beneath the box.
A tiny star.
My mother used to draw stars on everything.
Lunch notes.
Birthday cards.
My bedroom wall.
Always five points.
Always one longer point facing left.
I looked at the wires.
The red wire was obvious.
Too obvious.
The black wire curved left.
“Ten.”
“Emma!” Adrian shouted.
I grabbed the black wire.
Victor smiled.
I pulled.
The timer stopped at three seconds.
Leo sobbed.
Adrian stared at me.
Victor’s smile vanished.
May you like
And behind us, a voice whispered from the staircase—
“She remembers more than we thought.”
